Though I went through a phase of paring down my synthetic wardrobe, I’ve embraced the truth: polyester is my spirit fabric.
Recently at Carousel, one of my favorite vintage stores in Spokane, I bought a white polyester blouse with a scattering of small, purple deer on it and a long floppy bow that ties at the neck. (Reader, if you find yourself in Spokane, check this store out. And if you want some company for a coffee or microbrew at the Rocket Bakery across the street, hit me.)
Standing in Carousel’s fitting room, I wondered: Why do I love this shirt? Why, besides the intense cuteness of those deer that look as though pried from a diorama of the lobby of an alpine lodge? And then I pictured my mom, circa late 70s/early 80s with her Farrah Fawcett hair, who wore just such a blouse (see the stunning photo above of my mom at Disney World, 1978ish).
The golden light in the photo is perfect, as though my memory got to Photoshop it. This glow may also be a product of our not exactly, um, archival quality photo storage system, including album pages grooved with sticky lines of adhesive that we had to work against with our fingernails.
I have a deep and abiding love for goofy prints and loud colors (this is not my mom’s fault.) I won’t say that I’m toning down my wardrobe for my Big Girl Job. Rather, I’m rationing my Quirky Points. If I’m sporting the classic (but not dowdy, mind) wool trousers, I can get away with my nostalgic deer blouse.
I suppose we can let the psychoanalysts among us remain silent on why, of late, I’ve been wanting to dress like my earliest memories of my mother. For what it’s worth, I’ve also been leaning toward updated versions of the clothes my chic mother dressed me in, too. You can take a gander at that in the photo below.
Merry Christmas & Happy Holidays!